


Keeping Score, Keep Me Warm

by griffxnblake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Choking, Christmas Smut, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fingering, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Romance, Smut, Somewhat rough sex?, Sort of? - Freeform, bellamy is basically a dom in ths, but also she's a lucky bitch, im going to hell for this i know, no really this is basically just smut, rip clarke, set at christmas time, they kinda just skip the friends part whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffxnblake/pseuds/griffxnblake
Summary: Clarke has worked hard to reach where she is at Eligius. She's the head of her department, has her own corner office overlooking the city, has people follow her every word. So ever the dutiful boss, she attends the annual Christmas party with the intention of mingling and making good impressions wherever she can, and turning heads while she does it.Clarke is used to being in charge, plain and simple. But her co-worker and somewhat rival Bellamy Blake has had enough.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 173





	Keeping Score, Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softblakegriffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softblakegriffin/gifts).



> This ended up being unbeta'ed and had minimal editing so please ignore any grammatical or continuity errors like kim does. 
> 
> This also happens to be a birthday gift for one of my very best friends Sara, softblakegriffin on here and blkegrffn13 on twitter!!! I hope you enjoy your present! I made it as filthy as I could, per your request. But truly, I hope you have a lovely day and ily <33
> 
> I'm also on the bird app @ grffxnblake
> 
> Happy Hump Day ;)

The entire first floor of the Eligius building was as immaculate as anyone could expect, completely decked out in tasteful and elegant Christmas decorations.

Lights were strung along almost every surface, massive modern white Christmas trees adorning several spots throughout the large open space, and ribbons. Ribbons were absolutely everywhere, Clarke notices when she first enters through the revolving glass doors.

Now that the sun had already gone down, the warm lights gave everything a soft, almost romantic glow. She wasn’t surprised that it looked this good. Eligius _never_ skimped on their social events, and this party was meant to show all the employees how much they were appreciated after another year’s hard work.

Servers were flitting through the growing crowds as more employees and higher-ups arrived, offering champagne flutes to whoever would take them, and Clarke made a note to grab one after she put her coat away.

She never brings a date to these sorts of things, never has over the years. It’s not that she never had someone to bring, no. She just doesn’t feel comfortable sharing her personal life with her professional one. And in the office, she was seen as strong, independent, intimidating Clarke Griffin. She loved that her peers saw her this way, and she wasn’t about to do anything that could potentially soften her image like bringing a date to these things. She wanted them to see her and only her.

Which is why of course she had to wear red tonight. It’s festive, she reasoned. And why shouldn’t she look smoking hot at the same time? Clarke knew she was attractive. With her blonde hair and blue eyes and impressive figure, she was always catching people’s attention in the office. Hell, Cage Wallace (one of the company’s CEOs) was always watching her with a predatory gaze and making suggestive comments and had been for years despite already being married. 

But it didn't matter. She didn’t want any of those polished assholes who were already born into money and only adding to their fat trust funds with their high ranking job titles. She’d been down that road before and she never wants to go back.

No, tonight’s only objective is make an appearance, receive some compliments on everything she’s done for the company this year (which was more than exemplary), and maybe just to tease. But only a little bit. 

They can all look but they can’t touch. That’s the rule.

Her heels click against the marble floor as she makes her way to the coat room, where some flustered young man takes hers and she thanks him with a smile. She’s just about to turn and go when she hears someone call her name.

“Clarke! You made it!”

The blonde turns around to see her coworker and friend, Raven, making a beeline toward her, shrugging her coat off as well to reveal a dark forest green dress.

“Of course I did, you know I never miss these things,” Clarke reminds her before the two share a brief hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Still. I know you’ve been stressed lately and I was worried you’d be working all night in your office instead.”

Being the head of her department, it wasn’t uncommon for her to do what Raven said. It’s how she managed to work her way up, after all. But not tonight. No, tonight she was determined to have a nice night, spend time with her colleagues, and maybe turn a few heads here and there.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “As if I’d miss this perfect opportunity to drink some expensive champagne,” she says as a server happens to pass by and she grabs a flute. She takes a sip and tastes the somewhat sweet liquid pass her tongue. “I’m actually more surprised that you’re here. Thought you didn’t like all this fancy shit.”

Raven shrugs and looks over her shoulder to where Clarke can see a man around their age smile and wink at the brunette. “Let’s just say I was convinced that it might be a fun time,” she replies when she looks back to Clarke with a grin.

She raises a brow and smiles. “You’re here with Shaw. I would say I’m surprised but I’m actually not. Not with how you always talk about how great he—“

Raven shushes her with a gentle push to her arm just as Shaw walks up to them and offers his arm to Raven.

“Ready to go in? Oh,” he stops when he sees Clarke. “Miss Griffin. Nice to see you here,” he greets.

Raven laughs and shakes her head while Clarke gives him a welcoming smile. “Hi Shaw. And you can call me Clarke. Miss Griffin makes me think of my mother.”

Shaw chuckles and nods in understanding. “Clarke, then.”

“So where’s your date then?” Raven asks, and Clarke rolls her eyes. 

“I don’t have one, Raven. You know I don’t bring anyone to these.”

“So you chose _that_ dress and look _this_ hot just for the hell of it?”

“And if I say yes?”

“More power to you,” Raven says approvingly before tugging on Shaw’s arm. “Why don’t we go to the bar and get something to drink before more people show up,” she suggests. “Clarke, we’ll meet up with you later?”

She nods good-naturedly and waves them away. “Yes, definitely. Go get your drinks.”

************

She makes her away around the hall, greeting and briefly mingling with everyone she can. It’s good for her image, good for her relations with people in and out of her department, she reasons. It’s exhausting, but she didn’t get to where she is by being antisocial.

When she pulls away from talking to her colleague Gabriel, and his bubbly wife Josephine, she notices someone out of the corner of her eye and tries to turn away before they can notice.

“Clarke! Clarke, come over here for a minute! I want to introduce you to some people.”

Fuck. 

She makes her way over to Cage Wallace, who seems to be accompanied by a few other middle-aged men as they gather near the bar. Pathetic. She knows his wife is here somewhere, but of course he calls her over when she’s off somewhere else.

Plastering on a fake smile, she strides over to them, pretending to be happy to see them.

“Mr. Wallace! Good to see you here. Glad to see you enjoying yourself,” she adds, nodding to the drink in his hand. Most likely whiskey or bourbon. 

He gives her a sickly smile, one that always feels sinister to her somehow and raises his glass. “I definitely am. Clarke, I’d like you to meet some friends of mine. They’re from Sanctum Tech.”

The men chat about their oh so important jobs to her, clearly hoping she’ll be impressed, and Clarke merely smiles and nods along, not really paying attention. Why should she? She knows this is probably some sick game of Cage’s, _showing her off_ to his buddies. She doesn’t want to think about what he’s going to say about her once she’s gone.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I did agree to meet someone and I don’t want them to worry,” she tells them, pleased that they seemed satisfied with that. 

When he turns and starts to walk away from them, she feels a hand on her arm and freezes, careful to keep that fake smile on her face as she turns back to Cage.

“I really do have to meet someone, Cage.”

He smirks, raising a brow as he moves closer to her. “Alright, alright. I just wanted to tell you how positively _ravishing_ you look tonight.”

“Thank you,” she says tightly, though she feels as if she could slap him from here all the way to the other side of Arkadia. “Now, I must be going—“

“Still playing hard to get, huh sweetheart?” He says as he releases her arm with that sickening grin. “Always such a fucking tease.”

“ _Goodnight, Cage.”_

She turns on her heel then, pulling away from Cage but Clarke swears she can still feel his grimy fingers along her skin. She hopes the feeling goes away before the end of the night otherwise she’s going to have to take another shower when she gets home and scrub it off.

It’s not the first time Cage has made comments like that one, but with each time he does it, it still makes her feel sick and like absolute shit. And the nerve he has when his wife is at the same party.

Making her way toward the elevators, she fiddles with her clutch, casting brief glances behind her to make sure no one’s decided to follow after her.

So far so good.

When the elevator finally arrives, she’s relieved to step inside and find it empty. After mingling with coworkers and bosses all evening, she feels like she can finally let out a deep breath and leans against the rail along the wall. She watches as the numbers light up with each floor it passes, finally stopping on the eighteenth floor and the doors open with a soft ding.

The wide, familiar hallway is empty now, giving it an eerie energy. She’s so used to seeing people working and milling about, the sound of chatter and ringing phones always filling the air. Now it’s silent and she’s almost afraid to step forward at the risk of popping the peaceful little bubble she’s in.

She just needs to take a short break. Yes. Once she doesn’t feel so turned off by Cage’s words she’ll go back downstairs, ever the perfect employee and social butterfly.

Making her way over to her office, she punches in the code on the small number pad above the handle, hearing the click when it unlocks and pushes the door open. 

The view of the city at night is perfect from the windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling, a view she doesn’t always get to see but now she’s wondering if she should stay late more often just to be able to take in the sight. The skyline shines against the night sky, the red and white lights from the cars in traffic below moving along quickly. It was almost mesmerizing, and she’s tempted to stay there and watch until the party is over.

She’s still standing there, leaning against the window when she hears a shuffling nearby, and her body instantly tenses.

Shit. She hoped that no one else would wander up here. Probably some horny couple trying to find a private spot to fool around.

When that thought occurs to her, she’s about to push herself forward and give whoever it is an earful when someone passes her doorway, stopping mid-step when they see her.

_Bellamy Blake?_

He works in her department, has for about two years now, although it feels like it’s been much longer with how much trouble he gives her. Never anything that would justify reporting or firing him, but he questions and challenges her just about every fucking chance he gets. But unlike a lot of people she works with, he doesn’t come from money or rich parents with impressive jobs. He’s worked his way up from practically nothing from what she understands, earning everything through intelligence and merit. 

It would be more refreshing if he didn’t know how to get under her damn skin so often.

Determination shines in his eyes now, his mouth turned into a frown when his gaze finally meets hers and it looks as though he relaxes slightly upon finding her.

“Griffin, you alright?”

She blinks, unsure of how to respond. Not because she’s not sure if she is indeed alright, but because he’s never asked her such a thing.

“I...Yeah. I’m fine. What are you doing up here?”

He steps into her doorway, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black trousers. “I saw you talking to Cage and then run off. Thought maybe he did something. Figured you’d come up here.”

The dark tone in his voice startles her a bit. It’s different than the usual gruff, annoyed tone he tends to take around the office. This one sounds as if he’s genuinely angry, perhaps by the idea that she somehow disrupted his evening. As if it’s her fault. Fuck that, she didn’t make him do anything.

“I’m fine, Blake. Cage didn’t do anything he hasn’t already done before,” she grumbles and turns back toward the window to watch the traffic again. “Go back to the party.”

She only hears a slight huff and imagines he’s left to go back to the elevators, but then she hears the floor creak from somewhere close behind her.

“Back to the party? Why should I?” He challenges, and Clarke immediately turns her body toward him, tensing now that he’s stepped into her office. And now that he has, she finally decides to take in his appearance.

He’s wearing a suit and tie like all the other men at the party, but something about the way his broad shoulders fill out the jacket grabs her attention. He doesn’t usually wear one to work on a daily basis, choosing to go only with a collared shirt, but even then she always manages to appreciate how he wears them, making her wonder what he might look like underneath.

She’s not blind; everyone in the company knows Bellamy Blake is attractive and she’d be a fool not to notice it. It’s an objective fact, so that makes it perfectly acceptable, right? 

And she’d be a fool if she didn’t maybe flirt with him once in a while, even though they share less than an amicable professional relationship during the week. And she’d be a downright moron if it didn’t occasionally cross her mind what his deep voice might sound like in her ear while he has her pressed up against a wall.

Right? Right.

It was just fleeting lust. Plain and simple. It didn’t mean anything. He’s still stubborn and infuriating and a thorn in her side at the end of the day.

“So you can continue on with your mingling and socializing. Making a good impression on all your superiors. That’s why,” she quips.

Something flashes in his eyes then, just briefly. But that initial anger or annoyance she noticed before is still very much there, also obvious in the way he continues to carry himself, shoulders tense and jaw taut.

“I’ve already made a good impression on them,” he says with a scoff. “The only one that I apparently still need to work on is _you_.”

Her eyes narrow and her heart maybe skips a beat.

“Me?”

He gives a slight nod as saunters closer to her, his expression unreadable but he still can’t hide the way his gaze flits over her, first taking in her legs and upward to her dress. She doesn’t miss the way his gaze lingers for a moment on the deep plunge on her chest.

“Out of everyone in our department, Griffin, you still seem to give me a harder time than anyone else,” he says, his voice slightly deeper than usual. His eyes finally meet hers and she can actually feel the heat and intensity when he’s this close. “Is there a reason for that?”

Clarke’s mouth suddenly feels dry and she can’t come up with another quick retort this time. She wets her lips and slightly adjusts her stance against the window.

“Maybe you just need to work harder.”

His lips quirk upwards as he moves closer to her still, as if he’s trying to peer straight through her, looking for any slight crack of will or weakness.

“Harder,” he grunts, and the sound makes Clarke involuntarily rub her thighs together. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Bellamy.

Clarke wonders if this is truly happening, if she’s not misreading what he’s trying to do. All those months of subtle but loaded glances, slight brushes of the hand feel like they’ve finally led them here. It’s felt agonizingly slow yet too quick all at once.

Once he’s only inches away from her, he slowly brings his hand up, gently pushing back a loose curl behind her ear. The moment his knuckle brushes her cheek, it feels as though she’s been stung by fire, causing her to shiver.

His gaze never leaves hers, and she can’t help but sneak a quick glance at his lips. They’re so close and they’ve never looked so soft and she has the sudden need to find out if that’s true.

“How hard, Princess?”

The air around them feels thick and she realizes what he’s doing: giving her the final word, the final moment to decide if this is truly going to happen or not. He’s giving her the option to end this, but now as she can feel how wet she suddenly is that’s the furthest thing from her mind.

“As hard as you can,” she whispers, blue eyes boring up into his.

When his lips descend upon hers, Clarke feels like she might just burst. He kisses just like he argues with her in the offices right outside her door: passionate, deliberate, as if he’s fighting to dominate her completely.

She gives back as good as she gets, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. She was right, but his lips are even softer than she imagined despite the vigor behind them.

His lips then move toward her jaw, down her neck, in heated kisses as he starts to move her backward so she’s crowded against the window. She lets out a sharp gasp when her heated skin makes contact with the cool glass.

His teeth brush against the soft skin of her neck as his hands move to her waist. God, his hands are even bigger than they look now that they're on her, and she whines at the thought of what else they can do.

“How am I doing, Griffin?” He grunts into her skin before sinking his teeth down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

She cries out, and she moves her leg to hook around his, desperate for some kind of friction. “Don’t stop,” she pants.

She can feel the smirk form against her skin as he moves along toward her collarbone. He gives a solid jerk of his hips toward her, causing her to stifle a whine. 

“Uh uh, want to hear you,” he tells her, his one hand moving down toward the leg she has wrapped around him. It feels like time is moving so slow but then his fingers finally reach where her dress ends mid-thigh and she feels even warmer than before.

She hates this, that she practically melts under him after one touch, that she urgently needs more. She’s always been the one in control in their professional relationship, always the one calling the shots and he’s supposed to follow them. But now all she can think of is wanting- no, _needing_ \- to feel more of him.

He moves back up, pressing his lips against her neck, his hand gripping her thigh as he presses her against the window, and it’s all Clarke can do to shiver under him and let out a moan.

“Good girl,” he mutters before rewarding her with another kiss on the lips.

“Do you know how fucking crazy you drive me?” He asks between kisses and when he presses his forehead against hers for a moment to catch his breath.

Her eyes widen, her chest still rising and falling rapidly as she steadies her breathing as well. “How crazy?”

Her mind flashes back to all their moments together, heated or not, taking account of everything that’s built up in the time they’ve worked together.

She remembers thinking for the longest time that he just flat out hated her, hated everything she stood for and where she came from. He definitely made it known from time to time with certain remarks. But then there was a shift at some point. Where their pointed jabs at each other carried something else, something different. Something more frustrating. 

It was a shift where instead of wanting to wring his neck, she wanted his hands on her instead. 

“That I want you all the time,” he answers, voice gruff with frustration and arousal. His hand moves from her thigh to her ass and squeezes. “Want to hear you say my name over and over. Want to show you that _I’m_ in charge,” he growls before leaning down in a bruising kiss.

Her breath is unsteady again as she parts her lips and he consumes every inch of her mouth that he possibly can. Another moans slips from her and before long she’s writhing against him, trying to find some relief.

He pulls away and chuckles, his hands moving up to her shoulders to pull down her dress. “Tell me what you want, baby. Maybe you’ll get it,” he murmurs as he palms her breast once her lacy red bra is exposed.

She lets out another grunt of frustration. The fucking nerve of him to tease her like this. She’s about to bite out a snarky reply but his hand on her tit feels too good, the pleasure from it shooting straight down to her pussy.

“Jackass,” she manages to bite out between gasps. The cold from the window feels like a shock to her now exposed shoulders, and it sends a thrill through her to know that all those hundreds of little traffic lights from the cars can see her like this.

He clicks his tongue, clearly disappointed. “You have to do better than that, Clarke.” He grips her breast even tighter before moving his other hand to its twin. She whines at the contact and arches against him. “Unless you want me to go back to the party now?”

She swallows her pride and shakes her head. No. He can’t do that, can’t leave her here like this, pliant and soaking for him. She can’t remember the last time someone’s made her feel this good when they’ve only just started.

“So what do you need?”

“Your hands,” she breathes, still trying to grind her center against him. “Anywhere.”

He still hesitated, the pads of his fingers only lightly grazing along her chest.

_“Please.”_

He leans forward and meets her in an open-mouthed kiss, hard and biting and downright filthy as he massages her breast with one hand while the other moves down to the hem of her dress, and then under.

She moans into the kiss when she feels one finger brush along the seam of her covered center, almost crying out when he almost reaches her clit but doesn’t.

“You’re fucking soaked, Princess,” he says against her lips, smug. “This all for me?

_Princess._ She can remember when he started calling her that, after finding out about her upbringing, that her parents had very well-paying jobs and she never needed for anything. But this time it’s not said with the usual sneering and condescending tone. She like this way better.

“Just _hurry up,_ ” she complains, feeling like she might just combust if she doesn’t feel him soon.

He removes his hand again and she swears she could slap him. “What did we say, Clarke.”

“Just touch me already, damn it!” She’s impatient, and she won’t last long if he’s going to torture her like this.

“Maybe I need to remind you who’s in charge here,” he says darkly and the next thing she knows, his hand snakes up to her hip and rips down the tiny excuse of fabric covering her center.

He rubs two fingers against her slit for a moment before sinking them into her, and she cries out, her head leaning forward against his shoulder. His fingers are much thicker than her own, filling her up and stretching her out in a sinful and delicious way. 

“Fuck! Yes, like that. So good,” she breathes against him, her hands gripping his forearms.

He plunges his fingers deeper, all the way up to the knuckle before slowly pulling them out and pushing inside again. She lets out more curses under her breath, relishing in the slight pain and pleasure. 

“I’m making you feel good, Griffin?” He asks, his voice almost taunting, “C’mon, I want to hear you.”

“Bellamy— _fuck,”_ she curses as he starts moving faster, crooking his fingers upward to reach that one spot that makes her see stars. “Please, please…more.”

He smirks and adds another finger, watching her face as she tips her head back and lets out a gasp. The stretch burns a little now, but she quickly adjusts when he starts fucking her faster. 

She can feel and hear the obscene sounds she’s making, how wet she is because of him, and it only causes the flame of arousal to consume more of her, more than she thought was possible.

“Right there, right there,” she says as he hits that one spot over and over. 

He keeps up his unrelenting pace, his eyes glued to hers as she starts to come undone. “C’mon,” he murmurs. “C’mon baby, I got you. Come on my fingers, Princess.”

_Baby._ Just like that she finally reaches her climax in a silent scream, her hands still gripping his arms as he supports her weight. Her cunt squeezes his fingers as she rides it out, and she knows if he wasn’t holding her up she’d definitely be on the floor by now as her legs turn boneless.

His lips find hers again as she feels the small aftershocks of her orgasm, and she’s surprised to hear him whispering words of comfort and encouragement.

“Fucking incredible,” she hears him murmur when he finally pulls his fingers out of her, letting out a weak moan at the sudden emptiness.

“Wait,” she mumbles as she regains her composure. She reaches down to the hand that he used to fuck her, bringing it up to her lips and sucking them into her mouth. She can taste herself on them and it sends another jolt of arousal through her.

Bellamy’s eyes widen and he lets out a groan as she continues to wrap her lips around the fingers she’s imagining is his cock.

“You like that? You like how you taste, baby?”

She nods, looking up at him through her lashes as she gives them one last suck before releasing them. “Need to taste you.”

He smirks and takes a step back from her, letting her get a better view and angle as she reaches for his belt, quickly undoing it. “Think you can handle it?”

She rolls her eyes as she reaches down to grasp him through his underwear. “Shut up.”

_Fuck, he’s big,_ she thinks as she palms his dick for another moment, feeling how hard he is already. She pushes his pants down enough and kneels in front of him, finally taking him out and revealing his erection.

“Good girl,” he tells her, his voice more of a growl as she starts to work her hand around the shaft. 

She hates how much she likes him telling her that she’s a good girl. However, she can’t help but feel a sense of pride knowing _she’s_ making him hard and moan in pleasure and causing his jaw to go slack.

She licks her palm and goes back to it, running her hand up and down his cock, feeling the veins along it and she just _knows_ it’s going to feel amazing when she finally gets him in her cunt.

She can barely close her hand around his length when she starts giving teasing little kitten licks up his shaft before brushing her lips against the head.

Bellamy stifles and grunt and adjusts his stance, pushing his cock against her mouth and his hand weaving its way into her hair at the back of her head. 

“God, Griffin… look at you. Fucking gorgeous on your knees for me…”

She hums in approval and takes the head of his cock between her lips, sucking on it the way she did his fingers. Not too light, not too hard. Just enough to pull a moan from him that sends another gush of wetness between her legs.

Slowly taking him into her mouth, she can feel a bit of pressure from where he’s gripping her hair, pushing her further onto him, inch by inch. He’s only halfway into her mouth when she feels him on the back of her tongue and she has to take a deep breath through her nose.

“Too big for you, baby?”

She looks up at him, smirk in place and his tie undone now, and she narrows her eyes in a challenge. She moans and takes him another inch or two deeper until she can feel him hitting the back of her throat.

He grips her hair tighter now and she can feel him shudder in pleasure. _Because of her_ , she reminds herself. She may be the one on her knees, but goddamn it she’s going to be the reason Bellamy Blake comes undone.

He gives her a moment to adjust, only beginning to move when she looks up at him and gives a slight nod. Letting out a shaky breath, he never breaks eye contact as he starts to rock his hips forward, building up a steady rhythm.

“Your mouth feels so good, Princess. Just like I always thought…”

Every so often he pulls her hair a little harder, right when his cock hits the back of her throat, and god she’s even wetter now than before. She moves her free hand to her clit, trying for some contact and relief, but Bellamy sees what she’s trying to do and pulls her hair back. _Hard_.

“ _No._ Don’t touch yourself. Not unless I say,” he growls before slamming back into her mouth.

She’s taken so off guard that she gags a bit, but growls and sucks even harder now in retaliation. She goes to touch her clit again but before she can get any relief, Bellamy abruptly pulls her off his cock and his hand goes around her neck.

“ _What. Did. I. Say.”_

There’s only pure anger in his eyes now, and she whimpers at the sudden sensation of his fingers pressing against her skin.

He squeezes a little harder. “Answer me,” he demands as he tightly grips her hair again.

“Not unless you say,” Clarke chokes out, her chest heaving.

“Good.”

Instead of pulling her back on his cock, he pulls her so she’s standing up, and she can only imagine what a mess she is: hair disheveled, makeup running from her eyes watering, her dress pulled down the sides. If anyone were to catch them like this…

He leads her over to her own desk, backing her up until she can feel it behind her legs.

“Lean back.”

She does as he instructs this time, and as she waits expectantly for him to move next, she can’t help but think how wrecked and hot he looks like this: curls wild, his sleeves pulled up to reveal his lean forearms, cock hard and wet from her mouth.

He stands between her legs now, pulling her forward into another breathless and bruising kiss. It’s electric, lighting her skin aflame, burning even brighter than before and if she doesn’t have him soon she’ll combust.

“Bellamy, please,” she begs him, pushing her hips toward him, wanting to grind her center against him. 

“Almost. Promise,” he says into the kiss, his hands moving to her arms, up her shoulders and grazing back down to her sides and under her breasts. It’s more tender than she expects, especially after what he did when she was sucking him off. 

“Bra. Off,” he tells her, no room for discussion.

She reaches behind to unclip it, watching his gaze darken when he sees her breasts finally bare. He cups them in each hand, his thumbs brushing against her hardened nipples.

If she thought his hands felt good on her waist and her hips, it’s nothing compared to how they feel on her tits. They can actually hold them entirely, causing her to sigh in pleasure as he firmly massages them.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as he leans down and takes one into his mouth, sucking on her nipple. She lets out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the desk at the attention.

God, she can’t decide if she hates or loves his mouth.

He releases it with a soft pop before turning his attention to the other, his free hand coming up to pinch the one he just left. “You have the most perfect tits, Griffin. Cant believe you’ve been keeping them from me all this time,” he grunts as gives it a soft bite. 

She smirks, reveling at the appreciation. She has yet to have a partner that didn't love her breasts, but something about the way Bellamy appreciates them feels better than the others.

He continues to massage and feast on them, ripping little mewls and whimpers from her, until her patience reaches its end and she tries to rut closer to him, needing to feel more of him.

His cock is at full mast now, solid as it presses against her leg.

But he stops her hand when she tries to touch him. He looks up at her from her chest and wets his lips. “Shh. Be patient, Griffin.”

“You’re taking too long,” she complains. “If you’re going to fuck me just do it already.”

It earns a glare her way and he pulls back slightly. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you, Clarke? Right here on your own desk? With everyone downstairs?”

“I want—“

She gasps when he puts a hand on each knee and pushes them apart. He kneels in front of her and brushes his lips against the inside of her thigh, making Clarke bite her lip. Fuck him.

“Keep arguing and I’ll leave you right here, just like this, Princess.”

The intensity in his piercing gaze tells her he means it, and she’s so far gone by now that he can’t risk it. She _needs_ to feel him inside her.

So she relents, leaning back and letting him do as he pleases. “Fine,” she bites out. “But we don’t have all night.”

The response is a bite on her inner thigh, but he soothes it with his tongue right after. “Should have known you’d have an attitude,” he grumbles. 

She ignores the comment; that’s his own fault. He knows how she is in the office, always challenging him. If he thought she was going to collapse into a desperate puddle for him then he’s sorely mistaken.

As if she’s not spread out on her desk in front of him, desperate for him to fuck her. _Shut up. It’s different._

He moves closer to her center, either brushing his lips against her with soft or firm kisses, occasionally nipping her skin when she lets out a moan. It feels like an eternity before he reaches for the top of her underwear and starts pulling them down her legs, and Clarke kicks them off somewhere when they’re finally down to her ankles.

She looks back at Bellamy now, still hard as he kneels in front her, his expression awed and almost reverent as he takes her in. 

“What’s wrong?”

He blinks back up at her, his serious expression returning as he runs his fingers along her slit. “Nothing. Just enjoying the view, Princess.”

He doesn’t waste anymore time, leaning forward and licking a stripe up along her pussy, the tip of his tongue brushing against her clit and Clarke jerks forward with a loud moan. “Fuck!”

He gets to work immediately, anchoring his hands on her thighs to keep them spread and devouring her as if he’s a man dying of thirst. He pushes his tongue between her lips, dipping into her cunt and the resulting growl gets her shuddering under his touch.

“God, your mouth,” she gasps, moving her fingers into his hair now to keep him in place.

He continues lapping her up, the obscene sounds causing more of her slick to spill into his mouth, but he avoids that one spot she wants him the most.

“Bell-Bellamy, please…” she whimpers as she tries to move against his mouth, to get him to give her clit its much needed attention.

He tortures her for another few moments before he moves a hand toward her center, dipping two fingers into her cunt. She lets out another frustrated yelp at the sensation, still looking for that one thing that will drive her over the edge. She remembers what he said about not touching herself and bites her lip to curb the temptation.

“Please? Look at you, finally learning some manners, Princess,” he murmurs as he pulls his mouth away, but still thrusting his fingers inside her. He places a quick chaste kiss to her slit. “What do you need, baby?”

“I want to come, I want to come, so close,” she babbles out, trying to push her hips closer to him again. He crooks his fingers the way he did before against the window and she groans. She’s so close to that edge, to falling into the abyss, and he has the nerve to look so smug as he keeps her on the precipice.

He chuckles and _finally_ places his lips around her clit, sucking hard and she cries out louder than over now, not giving a fuck if the whole party downstairs can hear her. She’s just about there, with his fingers rubbing that one spot…

Suddenly he pulls back and stands up, his cock hard as he pumps himself once, twice, before guiding it to her entrance. “Uh uh, not yet. Want to see this perfect pussy come on my cock.”

He pushes inside her in one stroke, ripping another long moan from Clarke and she thinks she can hear him hiss out in pleasure. “Fuck! You’re so tight, Griffin. So good…”

Her mind is in shambles, she can’t feel anything else besides how _big_ he feels inside her, how full she feels, as if any little movement might just split her open.

Surprisingly enough, he seems to sense that and gives her a minute to adjust, leaning forward to capture her lips in a kiss, but it’s not as urgent as before, not as angry and dominating. She melts into it, sucking on his bottom lip as she reaches for the front of his shirt. His hand cups her cheek, brushing his thumb against her skin.

They're still giving lazy kisses when she nods slightly, giving him permission to continue, and he lets out a soft grunt and gives a gentle rock of his hips. She nods for him to keep going, sighing as the friction makes her shiver.

Within moments he’s pulling out halfway before thrusting in again, and soon he’s moving in and out of her at a steady pace, his lips parted as he watches her face contorted in pleasure.

“Feel good, baby? That’s it, let me hear you.”

Part of her wants to, to keep following his instructions, but the more logical side of her begs her to remember who this is and to not give him the satisfaction. But with each deep thrust, that logical voice inside of her is getting further and further.

“So good, Bellamy. Feel so good filling me up. It’s so deep…”

A particularly deep thrust has them moan out loud at the same time, and Bellamy leans forward to press more kisses to her neck. “You’re so tight, Princess. Feel so good on my cock. Love how good your pussy feels around me. Like it was made for me.”

He slams into her a few times, making her gasp with each one as he presses a kiss against her jaw. He moves a hand to her shoulder, her collarbone, before finally placing it at the base of her throat. His eyes are glazed in pleasure, his curls sweaty against his forehead.

“You want my hand here again? Like my hands on you?”

The pads of his fingers send a sick thrill through her, and she nods quickly. “Do it. Please,” she adds quickly.

He smirks and wraps his hand around her throat, toying with the right amount of pressure, and Clarke almost comes right then.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, keeping his hand in place as his thrusts become a bit more uncontrolled. 

He holds firmly in place like that, dripping wet and desperate to just come already but she can see by the smirk on his lips and glint in his eye that he’s enjoying torturing her like this. 

“You want to come? Not til I say, remember?,” he rasps out, pulling her closer to him until their faces are only an inch away from each other, sharing breathy gasps and moans. 

“You’re—ah! Taking too long,” she hisses, not caring if he gets angry or not. She just wants to come so bad already. 

He goes completely still, his mouth turned into a scowl as he pulls out of her and Clarke gasps at the sudden loss. 

Keeping his hand around her neck, he pulls her forward until she’s standing and maneuvers her back onto the desk, face down this time, her backside completely exposed to him. The way he manhandles her sends another shot of arousal through her.

“I’m _what?”_ He grabs her hair again, tilting her head up so she can see as he leans down over her. 

When she doesn’t respond right away, his hand comes down on her ass and she cries out. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Please, I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her eyes wide. 

“Remember who’s in charge here, Griffin,” he growls before pushing into her again and she cries in relief. He keeps a firm grip on her hair, pulling between thrusts and her hands look for something to hold onto.

“So who’s in charge here, Princess?” He asks, sounding more wrecked than before and she figures he must be as close as she is. 

“Ahh, fuck—You! You’re in charge, Bellamy,” she answers, feeling herself crawl right to the edge of the abyss again. “Only you. Please…”

“Fuck, fuck...Okay, good. You can come now,” he breathes, his cock hitting a slightly different angle now as he tries to push in deeper. “Come on my cock, Clarke.”

Out of everything, it’s the use of her name that finally pushes Clarke over the edge in a silent scream, her lips formed in a perfect O. It washes over her, burning and electric, consuming every inch of her and leaving her shaking.

Bellamy finds his release just as she does, and she can feel his warm seed coating her insides and filling her up. The sensation causes a few more little aftershocks to course through her. 

He leans over her still, his other arm propping him up on the desk while his hold on her hair loosens as they both come down. They’re both completely wrecked, disheveled and sweaty as they try to catch their breaths.

Bellamy ultimately releases her and reluctantly pulls out, so slow that Clarke lets out another whimper when he finally does. She already misses how full he made her feel.

This is the part she should have thought of before. After. She has no clue where this leaves them now and her head is swimming with a million different ways this can go and how it’s fucked everything up.

“Here,” he murmurs as he offers a hand to help her up. She eyes him curiously for a moment before taking it.

“Um, thanks.”

She stands up properly now, trying to fix her dress when she feels a gush of fluid drip down her thighs and it hits her again, the gravity of what they’ve done. 

Bellamy fucked her in her office, during the company party, and now she can feel their come dripping down her legs. Classy. She’s ruined.

Bellamy notices and quickly reaches for a few tissues from her desk and raises a brow. “Can I?”

She can’t find any other words to argue against him, so she nods, and he kneels down and gently wipes the mess from her skin. He cleans himself up afterward.

“Clarke, I…”

She shakes her head. “Bellamy, it’s fine. We don’t...we don’t have to say anything.”

He looks confused as he fixes his clothes now, tucking himself back into his pants and fixing his belt.

“We don’t?”

“No. I mean, we did _that_ and now we go back to how things usually are. Right? What else is there?”

He stops fixing his tie, lost in thought before she sees the muscle in his jaw clench and he nods.

“Yeah. Whatever the hell you want, Clarke.”

She lets out an exasperated gasp. “Bellamy, what did you expect? Am I supposed to fall all over you now and then you can tell everyone you made a fool out of me?”

The indifference in his features is suddenly replaced with anger and he scoffs. “Wow, Griffin. You really think I’m that big of an asshole, don’t you? Do you even remember why I came up here? You think I wanted to corner you or something? That I’m that big of a creep?”

She flinched slightly, not expecting this. Her thoughts are so overwhelmed with what happened that she doesn’t recall what he was doing there in the first place.

When she doesn’t answer, he shakes his head in annoyance. “I came to see if you were okay. I saw you leave after you talked to Cage and I know what a piece of shit he can be, especially to the women here. To you,” he adds.

“You might be a huge pain in the ass to work with, but I still respect you,” he tells her, still frowning. “And if you think I’m going to go tell everyone what happened here you’re mistaken.”

“Bellamy, I-“

“I don’t want to hear it,” he tells her as he finishes fixing himself up and heading to the door.

“Wait!” She follows after him, grabbing his wrist right before he reaches the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t...I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I just thought, with the way we are, that you hated me. That you’d do something like that. I was wrong,” she finishes.

He lets out a huff but he does manage to finally meet her eyes now. “Don’t worry, Griffin. And no, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t? But what about-“

“I’m not saying you don’t drive me fucking crazy, but not like that. Also, sometimes it’s just fun to get you riled up,” he explains with a smirk and she pushes his arm. 

“Jerk,” she says, but there’s no heat behind it. “So what now? We just...go back to normal or what?”

“We could.” He shrugs. “Or maybe we can leave this stupid party and figure it out.”

She raises a brow, trying to be sure of what exactly he’s implying, if he’s serious. His suggestion doesn’t sound too bad, honestly.

“We could,” she repeats. “...Your place or mine?”

“Wherever the hell you want, Princess.”

Clarke thinks there must have been a handful of people still milling around the party when she and Bellamy fall out of the elevator together, but she honestly can’t be bothered to give two shits about it. 

But it is worth it to see the look on Cage’s face when he catches them leaving together, hair still mussed and clothes a bit rumpled.

They figure things out twice more that night, and then once again the following morning. 

They both decide they’d rather spend their time keeping each other warm instead of keeping imaginary scores. Turns out they're much better at that.


End file.
